


Lean In to Kiss Atop the Highest Tower

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Assassin AU, M/M, Mentions of Death, Most characters are only mentioned, Murder, Not really too much jamilton, Period-Typical Homophobia, Royalty AU, The Organization - Freeform, but enough that i can call it jamilton, hamlaf, lying, not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: Leaning in for a kiss atop the highest tower of a castle that housed the king that Alexander was supposed to murder wasn’t exactly what he had expected.But when one joins The Organization, they must be prepared for any situation imaginable- even if it was one that came out of left field, so to say.





	Lean In to Kiss Atop the Highest Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mostly_Angst_Whoops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mostly_Angst_Whoops/gifts).



> Hi, this is @jamisahivemind from tumblr! Make sure to comment, kudos, and hang out with me over on the hellsite!

Leaning in for a kiss atop the highest tower of a castle that housed the king that Alexander was supposed to murder wasn’t exactly what he had expected.

But when one joins The Organization, they must be prepared for any situation imaginable- even if it was one that came out of left field, so to say. 

Alexander had accepted the mission without fuss or resentment toward his superiors. It was his first field mission ever since the Reynolds family case, which he was willing to admit was his own fault. Who knew that seducing the wife of a nobleman that hired you to find out if she was having an affair could possibly be a case of poor judgment? Eliza, apparently, since the short woman had used her fiery temperament to disassemble any and all of Alexander’s poorly-assembled arguments as to why he had done well.

So, needless to say, he had been fairly excited for a project where he wouldn’t be shuffling parchment with ink-stained fingers all day. The only blood he had shed for the past months had been from his fingertips, either pricked with the sharp end of a quill, or from the too-quick slice of paper against his skin. Tinging yellowed papers with crimson blood was never quite the same, never brought the same chill-down-your-spine thrill as watching the scarlet shades blossom atop the expensive fabrics that clothed those society deemed worthy of such riches. That feeling? It was only within Alexander’s grasp when he was an agent anywhere but in his dimly lit work building disguised as Mulligan’s Tailoring Shop.

Hercules Mulligan was a kind enough man, had bought Alexander a few pints of ale here and there after a particularly-well executed mission (or target). Although he was more of the brawn than the brains of their particular station, the bulky man knew his way around a needle and thread, somehow making even the cheapest of fabrics seem like something a king himself would don before heading out of his castle to greet the people he ruled over. And as luck would have it, that particular style of tunics happened to be what Alexander found himself clothed in, courtesy of Mulligan.

The fabrics whipped against his skin in the high winds at the highest spire, where he found himself now, gazing down on the array of lights and colored dots that didn’t quite seem like people from so high up. Night sky scowled down at him, well aware of his intentions, but only able to voice its disapproval through refusing to shine the light of a full moon down on his face, which displayed a troubled expression. At least, the expression had not been a troubled one until warm air flooded out from the now open door behind him. 

Turning quickly as his eyes widened in fear, he froze in place as soon as he saw the figure standing before him. Tightly coiled curls of dark hair- darker than the sky at this moment in time- framed a face with lips that spoke such gentle words it was almost a shock at just how broad the man’s shoulders were. Clothed in a deep shade of blue, verging on a navy color, with golden accents and medals pinned on, he stepped toward Alexander, shutting the door behind him.

“Prince Marie Joseph Paul Yves Gilbert Roch Gilbert du Motier Lafayette,” Alexander greeted, bowing deeply forward as to give himself time to set each and every last one of his stray emotions back and tuck them behind his ear with the strand of hair that had been in front of his eyes. “Good evening, your majesty.”

“Good evening, Alexander,” The prince replied softly, his voice far more gentle than that of any royal’s when they spoke to a palace attendant- which was, in truth, just a glorified term for a maid. “Might I ask what you are doing up here at such an hour? The chill of air is almost unbearable from up here, and you are certainly not accustomed to such winter nights.”

“I like the cold weather, your majesty,” Alexander spoke, his breaths twirling out in front of him in a white puff of air as he rose from the bow, his face now showing mild indifference. A cloak of formality cloaked the space between himself and the taller man, laced with the unspoken knowledge that the lack of railing around the platform they stood on had the potential to cause an… accident.

But apparently, the prince either refused to acknowledge such cloak, or he was simply unaware of its existence, as he took another step, then another, until he was face to face with Alexander.

What a peculiar sight they must have made, Alexander idly supposed as he waited for the prince to address him once more. A short man clothed in a uniform that was the slightest bit too large on him, and poorly pressed by shaky hands in the early morning hour that he was required to awaken. Compare that to the tall, almost imposing figure of the man in front of him, donning the customary colors of his kingdom, and well, it was rather strange that they found themselves alone on the spire of a lavishly decorated castle at this hour.

“My brother, the king,” Prince Lafayette began, his tone still soft, but now tinged with something else, something quiet, something that tasted an awful lot like the too-familiar sting of pity to Alexander. “He… He has spoken to me of you. He wished for me to be the one to inform you of this, so I apologize for him being unable to break the news himself...”

‘Fuck,’ Alexander immediately thought, eyes widening in realization. ‘They know who I am- they know what I am, and I am to be hanged at dawn. They sent up the prince- or at least a very good impersonator- to tell me of my impending doom so that I would not have the common sense to run off or push him off of the ledge at the very moment I figure out what exactly is occurring.’

“...The king wishes to take you as a lover,” Lafayette stated, unable to make eye contact with the shorter man as he uttered the words with shame in his voice. 

“...I beg your pardon?” Alexander asked, unsure of if he had misheard the prince. “The king wishes to do what, exactly?”

“The king wishes to… Take you to his bed,” Lafayette explained, disgust filling his chest as he found each word more and more difficult to explain. “He shall grant you immunity from the punishment of committing sodomy, and with it shall come the reward of riches, and a life of nothing more than pleasure and- fuck, I can’t do this! Please, Alexander, do not accept! He is a horrible man, he will only cause you harm, please, run away with me and we can be together and-”

“Wait,” Alexander cut him off, pushing his hand forward as a signal for the rambling man to shut up for a moment. “The king… He wishes me to lay with him? And he chooses you, his own flesh and blood, to inform me of such a proposition? And you wish to run off into the sunset with me as if this is some sort of teenage fantasy?”

“He is a cruel man, a horrid man,” Lafayette explained, reaching forward and tightly gripping Alexander’s hands in his own. “I have fallen in love with you, my Alexander, fallen in love with the way you smile and the sound of your laughter as it rings through the halls while you carry buckets of soapy water. I told Thomas, and he… He wishes to take such love from me. Please, I beg of you, simply say the word and I shall be yours to love and we will never have to see him ever again in our lives, and shall simply let the assassin take care of him.”

“...The assassin?” Alexander questioned, not letting go of Lafayette’s hands while simultaneously not holding them in return. “What do you mean, assassin?”

“There is a spy in the palace,” Lafayette explained, stepping close enough to Alexander that their chests were nearly pressed together, and body heat radiated off of one man and onto the other. “One who has been assigned the job of killing off the royal family, one by one, starting with the king and framing me for it. Once the king has been killed, I shall be appointed as the ruler, and then I will be next in line to have my throat slit. I cannot blame them, as the monarchy is a dreadful concept, and I would easily let one of the royals die if given the choice. But please… Come with me, my love, and let us be together.”

“...You would let one of the royals be murdered? Are they that terrible?” Alexander inquired as he let go of Lafayette’s hands and wrapped his arms loosely around the other man’s waist.

“Absolutely, my love,” Lafayette replied honestly, smiling at the contact and closing his eyes gently, leaning in to kiss Alexander after what he thought was a confirmation of reciprocated feelings.

“Well in that case…” Alexander began, stepping to the side and tightening his arms slightly. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Lafayette screamed as he was pulled off the ledge, and did not cease in his panicked shrieks until he collided with the ground far, far below them.

And the night sky still refused to shine upon Alexander.


End file.
